Chatting in the Dark
by Ardianna
Summary: Dreadwing and Nightangel find themselves in an awkward situation after a fairly one sided fight. Trapped with no way out, Dreadwing comes to the realization that skill often comes at a price.


**References to past trauma, the only reason it's in M and many thanks to Riyappe Paws for editing.**

Chatting in the Dark  
Their weapon's clashed as Nightangel fought the large seeker. He was broad, tall and wielded his claymore like an expert. Thankfully she was not just an expert with her spear; she was a master. She pressed on with the attack, there was no way she was losing to a Con. They danced together; though not much taller than her, he was much stronger and heaver. Whenever they locked weapons she was reminded of that. She stepped back and slid out from under his sword.  
He stumbled past her and she swung her spear out and cut a long line across his wings.  
Dreadwing roared in pain and swung his sword out wildly.  
Nightangel blocked it with the shaft of her spear, before swatting it away.  
"You done yet?" The femme exclaimed, exasperatedly in- and ex-venting, trying to cool her systems  
"Never Autobot!"  
Nightangel sighed. This was getting old fast. Time to change the field.  
"You know. From the stories I've heard, you'd make a good Autobot."  
"Never!" he slashed at her, she back stepped out of the way  
"Why?"  
He slammed is blade down over her helm in a two servo-ed swing. Her spear was there to block it as always. The icy ground gave a little under her peds, and she slammed her knee into his exposed abdomen to break the lock, sending him into the ground. The ice cracked further beneath her peds.  
"You can't beat me Dreadwing."She stated as calmly as she could as her irritation grew.  
He snarled and swept her feet out of under her. 'Frag, should have seen that one coming.' Nightangel thought. The heavy seeker heaved himself to his feet and tried slamming his foot into the wolf rider's head. She rolled out of the way and the ice shattered under them, and with a series of sickening booming 'CRACK's, the two cybertronians fell into the newly revealed crevice.  
"Oh FRAG!" Nightangel screamed, and though she would deny it if ever asked, her world went black.  
When she finally came to, the sun was reflecting off the ice, illuminating some of the hole they had fallen into, but leaving most of the cavity in the dark.  
"Oww." she groaned as she put a hand to her fore-helm. "Frag." she squinted up out of the hole.  
"So the sleeping angel wakes."  
'Did everyone feel the need to make fun of her name?'she inquired to herself.  
"Nice to see you too, handsome." Did she really just say that? She must of hit her helm on the way down, though, he did have a very agreeable frame now that she could focus on it rather than trying to prevent him from off lining her.  
"Any ideas on getting out?" the blue seeker resting on the far wall of there small prison asked.  
She looked over at him. "Your a seeker can't you just fly out?"  
"The space is too confined."  
"Get just great." she glanced around "You seen my spear?"  
He pulled it from out behind him and offered it, and warily she stepped over and took it. She narrowed her optics. "Why are you giving it back?"  
"I have faith that you won't try to off line me."  
"Why is that?"  
"Your reputation."  
"I have one?" Nightangel asked light-humored-ly as she sat back on the other side of their small space. It only took her about two steps.  
"Word of your victory over Shockwave spread quickly. There were many very glad to see him defeated, though were less than glad that you did not finish him."  
She huffed "He wasn't worth it." She sat back down and traced Jiggero's mark on the blade of her spear. She wasn't aware of how her face softened as she caressed the mark, but the blue seeker saw as well as the wolf print that was still proudly displayed on her shoulder. From what he knew of wolf riders, they only reason any would ever be separated from their pack was if their pack was dead.  
"You are a very formidable fighter."  
"Practice."  
"Instruction."  
She just huffed.  
"Where did you learn?"  
"Everywhere."  
Dreadwing blink at the response. "Who taught you?"  
She sighed "Why do you care?"  
"Curiosity, I fought your Prime and he didn't give me nearly as much trouble as you did."

She just sighed again. "Optimus fights like Megatron, and if you watch the two, you can always predict what they're going to do. I've tried teaching Optimus to be less predicable, but it's an up hill battle. He's set in his ways and that's probably why this war is still going. If Megatron found someone better than himself to teach him than he would have very little difficulty off lining Optimus."  
"You are better than both of them. Aren't you?"  
"Everyone knows their history. Both of them neither started out as a fighters, Megatron was a miner and Optimus an archivist. They grew to be warriors as the situation demanded but was simply a role they both grew into." She sighed "I started at a much younger age then them." she sighed again "And had formal instruction."  
Dreadwing sat silently for a moment digesting the new information. "What makes you think I would make a good Autobot?"  
She looked to him from her spear then back, tracing the sharp edge with a finger. "Your honorable, better than the other cons. Who are simply out for themselves."  
"As are you. My Lord Megatron values honor highly. With your skills you would make a fine Decepticon."  
Her spear snapped out and stopped a bare millimeter before is face. He hadn't even seen her move.  
"Never say that, I will never join the Decepticons. I chose the Autobots because they were the lesser of two evils. I fight for neither of the causes, I fight for myself, and the Autobots provided the best option to pursue." Her eyes were narrow and denta barred.  
"Settle your self, I meant no offence." he stated calmly, carefully guiding the spear away from his face.  
She relaxed back against the wall and stared at the ground before trying her coms again.  
Nothing. This was beyond frustrating. Why was it the coms never worked when you needed them to? Nothing to do, and stuck in a hole with a noisy con. What would Jiggero say in this situation?  
She hated the silence. The voices taunted her from the edges of her concussions. She shook her helm. She should really see Ratchet about them, or at least ask him for something to help her sleep. Other than getting knocked out, she couldn't remember the last time she fully recharged without nightmares. She pinched her temples. 'Go away!' she thought at the mocking voices of her many failures.  
'Go join the cons MURDER!' one shouted in her head.  
She curled up in a ball pretending to go to sleep and held her head between her hands.  
"Shut up." she hissed under her breath. It was being stuck in this hole. Space. Darkness. Alone. Fear. Memories. Cold. Alone.  
Broad rivers of spilled energon, all on her hands. Voices of the dead taunting her, whispering her failures, her weakness; taunting her for her pathetic sense of honor. She curled up tighter and shivered. She shut her optics, trying to silence the voices. All she could see was the alleyway where she lost everything. All she could feel was the Combaticions hurting her over and over and over again.

Dreadwing watched her curl up and thought she was just cold. Part of him wish that she would come over and curl up next to him. But then he heard her whimper "Go away". He could barely hear her so he assumed that it wasn't directed at him and watched the large femme quietly.

In her mind she tried fighting back, but they were everywhere. Hurting her, killing Tam over and over again. She dug her digits into her helm and whimpered; the voices laughed at her, told her that she deserved it all for killing them. The scene changed and Jiggero was dying in her servos, bleeding out, covering her hands in his life's blood. Tears fell down her faceplates, her servos slid down her arms, cutting the exposed wires of her protofrom open;streams of her own life blood trailing through her armor plating.

Dreadwing had seen enough. Whatever was haunting her had to stop. He walked over and sat beside her and pulled her into his lap.  
He took her helm in his servos, her optics were opened wide, but unseeing. "Nightangel." he said firmly "Come back. Whatever is hurting you is not here." She didn't respond "Nightangel." he repeated softly and stroked her temples, "There no one here but me, ans I will not hurt you. Come back."

Nightangel visibly flinched in his hands but he held her and her optics came back into focus. They Nightangel visibly flinched in his servos, but he held her and slowly, her optics came back into focus. They stared at each other for a long moment. He pulled her against his chassis, and she gradually relaxed into the hug; allowing him to embrace her. Softly he stroked her back and toyed with her metal locks.  
"What happened?" he asked softly  
"Its a long story."  
"We have time."  
She sighed "I was on one of the public ships that left Cybertron towards the end of the war..." She told him of her past. Of all the things that she had to do. She gave in and told him about the Combaticions and Shockwave. It was an amazing relief to her psyche. After she was finished he held her close and offered a much needed shoulder to cry on.

Dreadwing was in a state of shock, no wonder she hated the cons. They had taken everything from her, her family, her innocence, every thing.  
After a while they they both gave into the comfortable silence and slept.  
Rumbling engines stirred them from there slumber.  
"Lieutenant Dreadwing, are you here?"  
"Yes we're down here!" he shouted.  
Nightangel scrambled off his lap as drones looked down into their hole.  
It took some creatively but they both manged to get out of their trap.  
"Return to the ship, I will follow shortly." Dreadwing commanded.  
"Yes Sir"  
The drones leaped up into the sky and faded away. Nightangel held herself awkwardly and stared at the ground. Dreadwing crossed the distance between them and took her chin gently in one of his hands.  
"If you ever need me for any reason." he sent her his personal comm frequency. He turned away but decided against it and turned back. He swept her up in his arms and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Then released her and took to the skies.  
Nightangel touch two fingers to her helm, as it tingled from the gentle kiss.  
"Ratchet requesting a ground bridge."  
The vortex of green swirling energy was oddly comforting. She left the barren wasteland behind and a seeker circling above her behind.


End file.
